Flickering Shadows
by AuthorsSecret
Summary: President Snow's granddaughter goes into the final Hunger Games with her friends. But they know some things the rebels don't, and vice versa. Hopefully the story is better than the summary, and the title will be explained. Rated T just in case and because it's the Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

She was called Nyx after the goddess of the night from oh-so-long-ago. But her first name isn't what anyone pondered on. It was her last. She was called Nyx. Nyx Snow.

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A month before the rebellion really began; District Thirteen began receiving anonymous letter, things photocopied from President Snow's very desk. Sometimes it was accompanied by a note, a hint as to what the Capitol was planning next. It came in three different handwriting styles, and it was determined there was a group of three informants in the Capitol. Everyone assumed three of their own soldiers or agents had managed to infiltrate into Snow's office, which was a grave mistake that was snowballing faster and faster toward disaster.

With the help of the informants the Capitol was successfully overthrown. After the flurry of events that followed – Coin's death, Paylor being elected, a new system being established – a last Hunger Games were going to be held.

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My friends and I never imagined being selected to be thrown into the arena. Who did the Districts think sent the inside information? It was us, of course!

That's why the day we heard we were required to attend one last Reaping; I vowed to change my last name.

Before walking down to the square, I met up with Cassius Flickerman and Julius Templesmith. Cassius's eyes were just as haunted as they were yesterday, the day before, and the day before that…. And basically every day since his father died. Julius and I shared a tormented glance. We had all liked Caesar very much and were aggrieved when he had taken the electric shock that had killed him but saved Peeta Mellark, but it was even worse to see Cassius like this. Peeta had been unconscious and nobody but us would ever know, and that made it almost worse.

We tried to stand together at the Reaping, but two gray-clad District Thirteen soldiers spotted us.

"You can't stand here," the black-haired woman told us.

"But Ann-" the man tried to say.

Ann would have none of it. "They have to follow the rules." She gave them a hateful look.

The man looked like he was going to protest, but glanced at his companion's machine gun and changed his mind. I wondered if Ann took anger management classes. Then I wondered if the Districts even had anger management classes. I began to walk toward the place where I should be and the soldiers began to leave, when Julius spoke up.

"If you had any idea…."

His black eyes were smoldering, and I took a step back. I had seen my friend this angry only once, and I pushed the memory away before it resurfaced. The sandy-haired man, the nice one, tensed and bit his lip, but Ann just pulled him along.

I ducked under the roped-off area for girls my age. Of course, I was alone.

They changed it slightly; Katniss was to read off our names. I looked at her without shame. I had nothing to hide or be ashamed of. I had been helping them, after all.

Her voice was steady, but something in her eyes told me this girl, maybe two years older than me, was just a teen who'd had her heart broken one time too many. I looked at Peeta, who was looking at her slightly concerned.

Finally I zoned in on the words.

"Fauna Revlon."

Everyone booed. I watched a tall, thin girl walk on stage.

"Julius Templesmith." Again, the crowd booed. Julius walked on stage, not like Fauna and the others, but head up and honest. Everyone booed louder. Another girl was called, then, "Cassius Flickerman."

Julius and I shared another concerned glance. Cassius walked onto stage the way Julius had, but even from here, I could see the vacant look in his eyes. Then he spotted Peeta.

My friend let out a cry of anguish and clutched at his head like he wanted to crush it between his hands. Julius was at his side in an instant, but I was too far away to help. Peeta looked taken aback and as though someone was accusing him of something, but Katniss and everyone else looked completely bewildered. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.

I ducked under the rope and ran on stage, Julius and I trying to calm Cassius down. When that didn't work, we played angry.

"Look, Cassius. This is unacceptable. Be happy Peeta's okay. That's what he wanted," Julius told him firmly. Now Peeta was just as bewildered as everyone else.

Slowly, he stopped crying, and I let him use my spare tissues to wipe his eyes. Someone I didn't recognize nudged Katniss, and she cleared her throat. The commotion died down immediately.

"Our last tribute," she said oddly emotionlessly. "Nyx Snow."

"Miller! Not Snow. Miller," I yelled before everyone could start throwing things at me. Miller was my mother's maiden name.

"You just couldn't give Snow his punishment before he died, so you're punishing other people instead!" Julius shouted. "If you had any idea what we did for your precious rebellion!" He looked at Peeta before turning back to the crowd. "The Districts are supposed to be the good guys. It was us with the photocopies," he continued, now speaking to Plutarch Heavensbee and President Paylor. "We can prove it too. There were three sets of handwriting. Most of the documents were from Snow's desk. Only Nyx could get at them." I nodded. "But what does it matter? We're going to die – of friendly fire."

Before the crowd could take it all in, we were rushed away.


	2. Chapter 2

We were allowed to say goodbye to our friends and family, and while Julius talked to his parents Cassius and I leaned against the wall. I desperately hoped we wouldn't have to be interviewed. I doubted Cassius could take it.

Then I spotted Josephus. Our eyes met, and we both blushed. Josephus had asked me out once, and of course I accepted. Our date went drastically wrong, but we had a lot of fun. Then with the rebellion, we didn't really have time to talk.

I was worried, though, not only because of the obvious, but for Josephus. He made his way over, and we shared a grim look. Josephus was a hemophiliac. As the gray-clad soldiers escorted the families out, I looked around at the ridiculously dressed kids. Were Cassius, Josephus, Julius, and I the only ones who didn't think looking like a freak – I mean _normal_ – was fashionable? Well, soon our appearances were going to be the least of our worries.

We took the train to the designated place, as the Capitol was mostly destroyed. We met with our prep teams, who did our hair and prepared our make-up for our stylists. I was fine with the chariot rides, I could duck heavy projectiles well enough, but when my stylist laid out my dress, I had threw a fit.

"There is _no way_ I am wearing this!" I yelled, holding the white dress in one hand and the rose in the other. "Give me something else or I shred it!"

The stylist looked mollified, but after a lot of arguing and calling in the prep team for reinforcements, I ended up wearing the sparkling white dress and over-scented rose.

Walking out to go talk to my friends, I pass a box of something. I pick it up and hurl it toward my stylist's general direction, and hear the satisfying smash that I assume must be the mirror. I'm gone before he can call security.

I found Cassius first. He was wearing a twinkling, midnight-blue suit that was just a smaller version of what his father had worn on stage. He was staring at the mirror, tears making rivers in his make-up. His stylist looked frustrated and concerned, so I handed her a towel and she gently just wiped it all off. Cassius was a mini version of his father, and I was about to ask why people were torturing him this way, when the stylist answered my unspoken question.

"I can't believe some people! How can they make me do this to him? Oh, if it was up to me I'd shred every one of these awful, mocking costumes and design something worth wearing!"

"Well I'm glad you agree," I say.

Finally Cassius calmed down and we wandered off to find Josephus and Julius. I think the four of us had silently agreed to an alliance. When we found them, Josephus had a bandage on his finger and Julius was giving him a shot. A boy was staring – I didn't like the looks of him – and I stepped in front of Josephus to shield the medicine's label.

"Are your allergies bothering you again?" I asked just a tad too loudly.

"Wh-"

"Yeah," Julius said for him, stepping on his foot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the boy look away. It was a good thing Josephus carried his medicine everywhere. I wondered if they'd let him take it into the arena. Probably not.

Cassius had wandered over to the horses and was feeding them sugar. One snickered and pushed his nose into his chest. Laughing, he took a step back. I grinned at Julius and made a mental note that if we got out of this, I'd get him a pet.

Then we were ordered to get in the chariots. We went in the order we had been reaped in, saving me for last. I prepared to dodge tomatoes.

The kid who had been watching us made a rude gesture at the audience just before his chariot rolled off stage. The booing turned to angry shouting.

Fauna was next. Someone in her family must have been a military official, because she was wearing a general's outfit with phony medals and everything. The shouting turned back to booing.

Julius rolled on stage and the booing transformed into uncertain hubbub. He met the eyes of the people nearest him so innocently they had to turn away. Cassius was just a replay of that. He was gone too fast, and I braced myself.

I expected the worst and I got it, all right. I dodged tomatoes, stones, shoes, and even a seat cushion. Almost to the other side, I took the rose out of my hair and tore it apart, leaving the crumpled shreds on the path.

"Where's the rose?" Josephus asked when we regrouped again on our way back to the stylists.

"I killed it," I announced. All three laughed. By chance, I glanced behind us and saw the same boy watching us.

I nudged Julius. "Don't look, but the boy is watching us again."

When I was finally allowed to change into something worth wearing, I wandered back toward my apartments. As I rounded a corner I could see the boy was following me. Finally, I was so annoyed I turned and confronted him.

"Who are you and what do you want? If it's a fight, save it for the arena!"

"Pretty tough words for someone a head shorter," he said menacingly. I was about to make a smart comeback but he continued. "You're Snow's granddaughter, right? I was going to propose an alliance."

I narrowed my eyes. I must admit, this was one of the last things I expected. Too many things could go wrong if I accepted. Plus, I already had my friends from home. No, no way. I was a small, skinny girl that most of Panem hated. I was the last person a total stranger would ask for an alliance. There had to be a deeper meaning to this, but it was suicide to say no.

"I'll think about it," I said finally, but I wondered if he could see the decision I had already made as I walked away.

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Lucius stomped his foot in frustration after the Snow girl had gone. If she was anything like her grandfather, she would be a valuable alliance, and not just in the Games. So far, things weren't going too well. She preferred the company of those losers, Cassius Flickerman and Julius Templesmith, and the kid with the medical condition – allergies or something else, he didn't know.

She did demonstrate a good ability to dodge things at the opening chariot rides, but tomorrow's training was the only thing that could prove whether or not she was good at something else.

Lucius spun on his heel and began to walk toward his suite. It was going to be a long week.


	3. Chapter 3

I sprawled on my bed, concentrating on the softness and how different it was from my own bed. Ha, joke there. My own bed – the floor.

Unable to sleep even on the floor, I finally curled up in the shower until the humidity and nice scents lulled me to sleep.

In the morning I was woken up by a loud and somewhat urgent knock on the door. I got up and opened it. It was Cassius.

"Gosh, you look like you spent the night on the floor!"

"The shower, actually. Could you get to the point?"

"Well, my stylist got us these pins, and I was wondering if we could use them as matching tokens."

He held out his open palm, and on it were four mockingjay pins, exactly like Katniss's.

I nodded slowly, a plan forming in my mind. Cassius wandered off to give the others their pins and I changed and brushed out my hair. Whenever I was upset or needed to get my mind off something, I brushed my hair. It was jet black, as black as the night. That's what my parents used to tell me. Then my mom would mention my eyes, and my dad would tell me they shone like the stars. I sure missed them sometimes. When I was really little, my skin used to match my porcelain appearance, but recently it had darkened and become slightly coarser, as I spent less time hiding and more time outside with my friends.

After countless brush strokes, I braided it and then twisted it up into a tight bun. I splashed cold water on my face. After drying it off, I stared at the powders, potions, and pastes otherwise known as make-up. With a half-smile, I decided to play dress-up.

First I impersonated Katniss. Using a brown wig that I braided, tucking my bun under it, I used make-up to try to simulate Katniss.

I was too short and gaunt, and my eyes were way different, but I did a pretty good job. Then the idea struck me to try to dress the most freakishly – I mean _normally _– as I could. I ended up looking like someone had gone for a paint-balling spree and found me as their target. Perfect.

I took off all four wigs. Just as I was drying my face again, someone banged on the door.

"Coming already!" I yelled as the pounding increased.

I threw open the door and hopped back. It was a guy a couple years older than me in one of those District Thirteen uniforms who was grinning like an idiot. When he saw me his eyes went all wide and his smile vanished and his jaw went slack. I blinked and smiled uneasily, wondering if I'd missed any make-up.

He was still standing that way when I asked, "Uh, would you like to come in?"

He pulled himself together and stepped over the threshold. We passed the mirror: no make-up. Huh.

"So…."

"Uh, yeah, I'm supposed to be your mentor," he said. "My name is Septimus."

"Nyx. You've got to be kidding about the mentor part. I mean no offense and all, but…."

"You probably know a lot more about this than me." He wrinkled his nose. "My brother volunteered me. We escaped to District Thirteen and – though I assure you it's a coincidence – information was stolen, blah, blah, blah. You get the idea. So we had to think of something quick. I was all for janitor duty, but Milon had other plans, so here I am. Milon is your friend Josephus's mentor."

"Okay."

"So, what should we start with?"

"How about this?" I asked, promptly flipping him and pinning him to the ground with one foot.

"Nice, can I get up now?"

"Sure," I said, taking my foot off.

"Where'd you learn that?" Septimus asked, rubbing a shoulder.

I looked away and didn't answer. We were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Julius, and I could tell his cheery smile and tone of voice were forced as he said, "Time for training!"

We meet up with Cassius and Josephus down the hall. The first station I go to is the fire-building one. I can make a decent fire in more than one way, but it can't hurt to practice. As I stare into the flames, memories I would rather forget make their way to the surface. Fire is an eerie similarity Katniss and I share. It saved her life but destroyed mine. I remember the night our house burned down when I was seven. That was the happiest evening of my life. It had been my birthday, and my parents had given me an expensive necklace, the same one that hung around my neck today.

I remembered walking through the smoke and flames, not even being affected by them. My parents' room had been blocked off by a wall of flames, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was I couldn't get their door open to let them out. When they realized I was there they told me to escape and they'd see me later, so I did. I waited and waited for them to come out, but they didn't. They didn't….

The scene faded from my mind, and another replaced it. I was in another fire, one I had set. I sat in the middle of the circle piled high with branches and waited to die. I waited and waited until my clothes were charred rags and the sticks were a pile of ash, but I was alright. Again.

Another scene replaced that one, this time the week before the Reaping. My small apartment housed three families, and the heat was broken so we had the fireplace going. The oldest kid in the third family may have suspected me. He nearly caught me with files I didn't have clearance for multiple times. Once I had to throw papers I was cracking the code for into the fire because he showed up. Now that I thought about it, I think he might actually be here.

Every time I went out and came back with bread, my guests tried to get me to tell them where I got it from. Now, if I had been in their place I would have shut up and eaten the food, but not every one thinks the way I do, so I told them I had my ways. Micko tried to follow me more than once, and once he actually succeeded. I was breaking into my grandfather's mansion and stealing sacks of the stuff along with documents that Cassius, Julius, and I transported to the rebels. When Micko followed me he got caught, and I had to break him out and alter the files so he wouldn't be executed for treason. Then I made him swear not to tell or I'd make sure the next thing he swallowed was poisoned. I still don't know if I would have carried out the threat, but Micko seemed to think I was capable of anything, and he couldn't have been more right.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucius watched the Snow girl over at the fire-building station. She had a fire going within moments, but was still staring at it with the faraway expression of someone lost in their own mind. He felt something odd before pushing it away. He had to think strategy, cold calculation, not feelings.

Maybe if he could get one of her friends to want to cooperate, she'd listen to them. It was a more than likely plan, but it was going to be difficult to carry out. Lucius wondered how he was supposed to act here. He didn't really know what he wanted; he'd always gone with whatever would get him to his goal. But now, this was totally new. Maybe he should be himself. That might work. But who exactly was he?

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I move on from the fire-building, from my memories, to the knife-throwing station. It's going to be a long week.

On the way back to our apartments, Septimus and I were discussing how stupid it was to dye your skin, but how sparkles in your hair actually made you look nice, when I stopped dead.

"Wh-" he followed my gaze and put two and two together. "Um, I think I'll wait for you in your room," he said, backing away and dashing off.

I was looking at a young man in a red suit with his head tipped slightly downward.

"Did they cut your tongue out?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. He shook his head, meeting my gaze. All those years came back, the smile, but no words. They didn't need to cut his tongue out, he was mute.

I thought back to the last time we'd seen each other. It was the day the rebels won. I had been outside the cement barrier with Julius and Cassius. We were wearing some sort of uniform and distributing supplies to the people gathered there. Julius had run out of coats, so I was giving mine to a little girl when I heard the hovercraft overhead. It dropped dozens of silver parachutes, and I was bewildered as to what was going on before they exploded.

A bunch of people rushed forward, mostly Peacekeepers and rebel medics. I ran with them. And since of the three of us I had the medicine, I went with the medics. The girl beside me, who I now know was Primrose Everdeen, crouched and we began helping a young boy. But the parachutes weren't done yet. They exploded again, and the one nearest us took out Prim, just as we both noticed Katniss's arrival. I tried to cover her, but I landed short, instead covering the little boy we had been helping. My left arm was burned very badly, but I had saved the kid. Suddenly, someone was beside me. I expected Julius or Cassius, but it was a Peacekeeper, the same one standing in front of me now, the same one who'd been the only one who smiled at me all those years, the same one who'd helped Cassius and Julius ruin my date with Josephus, making it the time of our lives.

We'd carried the kid over to a much safer place, next to other wounded people, and began treating them until our supplies ran out. By then, most people had started recognizing me, and the only reason I wasn't mobbed was my Peacekeeper friend, who still had his machine gun slung over his shoulder. I noticed all the rounds of ammunition were still untouched, so he probably hadn't fired at anyone, though it was entirely possible he'd just reloaded. Then I noticed a few bullets were missing, and I remembered the packs that had exploded in midair. No one else, however, seemed to notice those. Huh. So I had left any remaining supplies and gone to find Cassius and Julius before things took a turn for the worse.

I wondered what had happened to the other Peacekeepers. I mean, the rebels wouldn't make them Avoxes, as plenty of Avoxes were with the rebels, and they wouldn't want that. If my friend here was mute, they might as well have him play the role for the next few days. He gives me a small half-smile, letting me know everything was okay, as though somehow it'll be all right. I smile back before following Septimus down the hall. Let the Games begin – my way.

I'm good at fencing, but I'm just using that as a cover for what I can really do. So when I sit with the other tributes waiting for my session with the Gamemakers – well, more of the rebel replacements – I tell everyone who asks I'll do something with the swords. But when I walk in, I ignore the swords. Instead, I select two hatchets, a set of knives, and a set of shurikens. I start with the knives, as they're familiar ground, and spear every target's bull's eye. Then I throw the hatchets into the targets with such force I don't bother to try to remove them, as I probably wouldn't be able to. Then I test the shurikens. The first one misses the center of the target, as I have never used them before, but sinks in slightly to the left. The rest is the product of my deadly aim – bull's eye. I think I've found my weapon.

Back in my apartments, Septimus and I watch the TV screen. The announcer reads off everyone's names and scores.

"Lucius Fallut scored twelve."

I shivered, wondering what he had done. Decapitated a dummy, maybe.

"Fauna Revlon: six." Not bad.

"Julius Templesmith: ten." Septimus and I grinned at each other.

"Cassius Flickerman scored ten as well." I was going to have to ask my friends exactly what they had done.

"Nyx Snow."

"Miller," I muttered.

"Eleven."

"Nice," Septimus commented. "That must have been some serious sword work."

"Actually, I didn't touch the swords. I threw knives, hatchets, and some shurikens. I didn't even know I knew how to use shurikens," I informed him. Just then, an alarm went off. Septimus and I rushed out into the hallway to see what was going on. Of all the things it could have been, this is the one I didn't expect.


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